


It’s Okay, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either

by Pholo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Keith (Voltron), M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 19:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11698455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pholo/pseuds/Pholo
Summary: Shiro remembers that he and Keith were together pre-Kerberos. Confessions ensue.





	It’s Okay, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either

“End training sequence.”

Shiro’s command echoes off the walls of the training deck. The training bot, caught in a sweeping gesture as it pivots to strike Keith across the middle, stutters on a half-step and powers off. Keith startles, poised to meet the bot’s blow, and watches as the bot’s blue eye fades to an offline grey.

Keith turns to the door of the training deck, ready to ask Shiro why he'd terminated the program—only for his heart to drop down to his boots. Shiro stands hunched in the doorway, dressed in his ruffled civilian clothes, his cheeks red like he’s run all the way from his quarters.

“Shiro?” Keith ventures. His Bayard fizzes back into its sheathed form.  

Shiro doesn’t explain right away. He takes a moment to find his breath, turning the words over in his mouth before he says them.

“I—just remembered. Our time at the Garrison.”

Keith’s throat goes dry. The floor seems to tilt under his feet.

Shiro meets Keith’s eyes with a dejected expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

Keith forces himself to take a deep breath. His chest feels too tight, like something has reached out and wrapped a fist around his ribcage. “It was…never the right time, you know?”

It’s a flimsy excuse; a gentle fiction. Shiro tears his eyes from Keith’s, betrayed. He looks to the far wall as though the answers are written there. His flesh hand twitches once by his side. Keith feels his own fingers start to curl towards his hip. He thinks back to the Garrison, and he can almost feel Shiro’s warm palm against his. Shiro’s hands had been soft back then, Keith’s worn from years of desert life. Shiro hasn’t let Keith touch his bare hand since their reunion on Earth, and Keith wonders how the new scars would feel against his skin.

Keith pushes out another breath. He wills himself to speak, but the words won't come. There’s simply no way to explain—

“If you wanted to end the relationship, you could have just told me,” Shiro says quietly. “I would have understood.”

“What? Shiro, no, I—” Keith scrambles to salvage the situation. “I didn’t tell you because you—”

Abandoned hallways. Dark desert terrain. Camera blind spots. The barest of touches before class; the way Shiro craned his neck between kisses to keep an eye out for guards. The memory of Shiro’s lips, pressed to the curve of Keith’s collar bone—and then the harsh rush of air on his skin as Shiro ducked away, to escape the attention of an RA down the hall.  

Keith stands stiff, his back arched. His right hand trembles around the handle of his Bayard.

Shiro notices because he always notices. He steps forward.

Keith can’t let himself be touched, so he says,

“I didn’t think you’d want to remember.”

There’s a single, soft clap as Shiro stops. Keith forces his gaze up from the floor, his eyes defiant. An old hurt burns low in Keith’s stomach. He draws on it for strength as he continues: “We weren’t supposed to be together. You were my superior officer. Our relationship wasn’t exactly a point of pride for you.” Keith blinks away the heat behind his eyes. Shit. He struggles not to bite his lower lip. “It made you nervous. If anyone found out about us, you’d’ve been taken off the mission lists. I figured—I mean…”

“Keith,” Shiro breathes. “Did you think I—”

“It’s fine, Shiro.” Keith assures him. He crosses his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I didn’t want to have this conversation.”

But Shiro won’t be placated. “ _Keith_ ,” Shiro repeats, his tone urgent. “Listen to me. Did you think I was ashamed of you?”

There’s a pause. The answer must be clear on Keith’s face, because Shiro’s eyes widen.

Shiro swallows. He curls a hand over his mouth.

“ _Christ_ ,” he says. His voice is quiet and horrified.

Silence descends on the training deck. Keith forces his body to relax. Shiro’s feet appear to be glued to the floor. He wrenches forward suddenly, as though torn from the ground, and stalks over to the communication panel on the far wall.

Keith watches with a bemused expression as Shiro thumbs open a comm channel.

“Everyone,” Shiro says, “come up to the training deck. I have an announcement to make.”

“Is something wrong?” Allura asks.

“Yes,” Shiro says, succinctly. He clicks off the channel.

Keith waits beside the offline gladiator, his arms still folded across his chest. He wants to ask what’s going on, but Shiro has that look on his face—the one he wears when he’s about to perform a risky maneuver—and Keith knows not to distract him. He feigns nonchalance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the door bursts open. There’s a flurry of yellow and green clothing, and Hunk sprawls through the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” Hunk demands. Lance appears at his side like a second shadow. “Did something happen? Did a training bot spazz out and kill someone? Are we under attack?”

“No,” Shiro says.

“Did the maze come up and electrocute someone? Did the gravity go out? Is something on fire?”

“No,” Shiro says.

“Then what?” Hunk wails, at a loss. “What’s going on?”

Shiro raises his hands. “We’ll talk about it once everyone gets here.”

“Seriously?” Lance throws up his arms. Pidge filters through the door, followed by Kolivan and a handful of Blade agents. “Shiro, you’re gonna’ give me a heart attack—and then we’ll have a real emergency on our hands. Is something wrong or not?”

“Just a minute,” Shiro presses. Keith cranes his neck as Coran and Allura enter the room. Slav brings up the rear, clutching what looks like a weathervane and a hammer. “All right. Is everyone accounted for?”

Coran performs a quick headcount. “Looks like we’re all sorted, Number One. What seems to be the problem?”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Shiro says. Keith tenses. “It’s something I don’t think I can fix. Not all the way.” Shiro steals a glance at Keith, whose face has gone sheet-white. “But I have to try.”

There’s a pause. The team stands gathered around Keith and Shiro, bemused.

Shiro clears his throat.

“I love Keith,” Shiro says. “It feels like I’ve always loved him—before we’d even met. He’s one of those people who manage to change you so much, and touch you so deeply, that you can’t remember a time when they weren’t a part of your life.” There’s a smile on Shiro’s face, his gaze warm as he stares down at the floor. Keith’s whole body has turned to stone. “Keith...I love the way he lights up when he talks about the stars. I love the way he holds his mugs like they’re about to break, and how his hair fluffs up after a shower. I love how he’ll fall asleep on any close horizontal surface; the couch, the floor. I’ll never forget the time I found him asleep on top of his desk.” Shiro chuckles quietly. Then he swallows, and a solemn look comes over his face.

“Tonight I remembered—that we were together before I left for Kerberos. To say that I was happy when he kissed me would be…” Shiro pauses. He shakes his head; his eyes are wet. “Keith stitched my whole world together. Every time he touched me, I…”

The team looks on, stunned as Shiro struggles to regain his composure. His hands tremble.

“Sorry,” Shiro coughs. “Guess I thought I could do this all in one go.”

“Shiro…” Keith manages.

Shiro looks up. He takes a short, wet breath, and braves a smile.

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro says, simply. His eyes are full of tenderness. A glimmer of hope splinters a line down the wall around Keith’s heart. “I—wanted to be open about how I felt. Hell, I wanted to pull aside every cadet, officer—every random stranger—and brag to them until I went hoarse.” Shiro huffs out a weak laugh. “But we weren’t supposed to be together. If high command ever got wind of our relationship…”

Keith wants to curl up on the floor. He stares, arms limp at his sides as Shiro plows on: “You were the best pilot I’d ever seen. You deserved a straight path up to the top. I didn’t want to be an obstacle or a burden to your progress. So I was cautious. I kept our relationship on the down-low.” There’s a defiance to Shiro’s tone suddenly: “But I don’t have to tiptoe around anymore. I’m coming out and saying it, loud and clear, to everyone on this ship. I’d tell the whole universe if I could.”

Shiro tilts his chin up. The air hums. “I love you, Keith,” he states. “And I’m proud of that. It’s a _privilege_ to love you. And I’m so, so sorry I ever made you doubt how much you mean to me.”

Keith remains upright by some miracle of physics, though his legs wobble dangerously.

Lance, ever the observant one, ogles at Shiro like he’s grown a second head. The Blade members appear stoic as always, though Kolivan has endeavored to raise an eyebrow. He seems at peace with the situation.  

Slav plucks at the edge of his weathervane.

“Is this kind of activity commonplace for your species?” he whispers at Pidge.

“Well,” Coran declares. He beams. “Now that we’re all settled, I’m going back to the bridge for a spot of maintenance.”

“Guess I’ll head back to the lab,” Pidge muses. “Coming, Hunk?”

Hunk seems to sprout back to life. “Yeah, uh—sure!” he says. There’s obviously a sense that Keith and Shiro should be left to their own devices. Hunk tows Lance out the door behind him as he exits; Lance splutters the whole way. 

“You knew, didn’t you! Both of you!” he accuses. “I can’t believe this. Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything on this ship?”

The last few team members file out the door. Keith and Shiro are alone again on the training deck, though Keith barely notices the team’s absence. His world has flattened to a series of shapes and colors. He’s vaguely aware of movement as Shiro turns to him, concerned.

“Keith—?” Shiro tries.

Keith’s shoulders hitch as he breathes. He’s kept the tears at bay for so long now that he’d thought he’d forgotten how to cry—but when he combs a hand across his face, his cheeks are wet.

“I _missed_ you,” Keith rasps.

Shiro snaps. He stalks forward, reaches out, and flattens the Red Paladin to his chest like he plans to merge with him.

It’s a tight embrace—tight enough to hurt—but Keith clutches at Shiro like he’s afraid he’ll pull away. His fingers catch in the fabric of Shiro’s shirt as he scrambles to press closer, closer, closer.

Keith doesn’t bother to muffle his cries anymore. He sobs into Shiro’s chest like no one can hear. His legs start to fold out from under him—Shiro guides Keith down onto the floor. He’s murmuring at Keith like a dam’s been broken. A long litany of “I’m sorry” and “It’s okay” and “I love you” surround the two Paladins in a thick blanket.

Keith shudders into the cocoon of Shiro’s arms. He presses a kiss to Shiro’s neck. Shiro melts into the gesture, ducking his head to kiss Keith’s forehead; his cheek; his lips.

Shiro loves him. Shiro _loves_ him. Keith meets Shiro’s kisses, and he laughs through the tears.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [the Crywank song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbYCaASxYo0).
> 
> My fics always seem to end with my OTP curled together on the floor. I JUST WANT THEM TO HOLD EACH OTHER, OKAY? Let me have my tropes. 
> 
> I am but a beast of fire  
> And I'll flicker and glow like underwater snow  
> If you only forget me now, forget me now  
> I am just a moon on fire  
> And I'll flicker and glow like underwater snow  
> If you only forget me now, forget me now  
> Forget me now, forget me now  
> This is that and I must know  
> But it comes together somehow...  
> — _Mum, "Underwater Snow"_


End file.
